


blue skies, blue sea

by willseggos



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Bisexual Richie Tozier, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Stanley Uris, Jealousy, M/M, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willseggos/pseuds/willseggos
Summary: "We're in Derry now, Stanley. Are you nervous?" Cheryl his 'care' and foster worker turned her head to look at him a little.He didn't answer. He thought it was pretty obvious he was nervous by the fidgeting of his hands and the constant checking through everything, to make sure he hadn't left anything that he was nervous.The lady sighed, but smiled at him. "Don't be. They're a lovely family. You'll be fine, Stanley."( foster kid! stan au wowza )





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aye it's ya boy uh  
> skinny penis
> 
>  
> 
> I thought of this au on a car ride to the beach yeet
> 
> this is basically stozier-centric but like hints of other shit ;)

"We're in Derry now, Stanley. Are you nervous?". Cheryl, his 'care' and foster worker asked him, turning her head a little to look at him. 

He didn't answer. He thought it was pretty obvious he was nervous, by the fidgeting of his hands and the constant checking through everything, to make sure he hadn't left anything. 

The lady sighed, but smiled at him. "Don't be. They're a lovely family. You'll be fine, Stanley."

Stan heard only a little about the Denbrough family from either Cheryl or the things he had overheard from her chats with the parents. He knew they had two sons. Georgie was one of their children, the youngest one who was about six. The other son was about Stan's age. A year old actually. His name was William..or Will. He couldn't remember exactly, and that added to his nerves. He took a look at his watch. Five pm. They had been driving for three hours now, and had only stopped twice. The man driving him seemed bored enough, and Cheryl was sitting tight. Cheryl was the one who held all his files and was supposed to watch and check on him. She did. Most of the time. She was also the one who smoked way to often near kids. Stan wasn't really a kid though. He was twelve. Just about thirteen in a couple of months now. "Just a little while and we'll be there Stanley. I bet you're excited. They're lovely people." She had repeated herself, making Stan roll his eyes. After all Cheryl only mentioned they were lovely people and an amazing family at least four times in the past ten minutes. She also kept trying to converse with him, but only stopped herself in realising he was much more quieter than everyone else she had to work on finding homes for. Stan knew he was way quieter than all the other kids. He knew he'd prefer to sit still instead of mess about with all the others. He didn't like the majority of the others anyway. Mainly because they didn't like him at all. He didn't care too much about that though. He knew what they all said when they thought he couldn't hear. Stan always heard though, and most of the time he wish he didn't. 

Before he could even think about another thing other than the other foster kids and the things he was called, they had pulled up at a house. Stan hadn't even realised they had drove into a neighbourhood at all. He had been so focused on his thoughts and his two bags and his watch. He looked out the window, carefully unbuckling the seat belt as Roxanne almost immediately jumped out the car. She seemed almost eager to get him off her hands. He watched her go up to the door and knock, and Stan could already spot the creases in her blouse, and he just looked, as if counting each crease. 

He got out the car slowly, gripping the handles of his bag so tightly, his knuckles turned a white shade. There was muffled yelling from someone's backyard (and to Stan's realisation and dismay, it was the backyard of this particular house). "Richie, give me back my shoes! My socks are gonna get muddy, you asshole!" was one of the things Stan could pick out from the exclaims. Cheryl swallowed thickly and straightened out her blouse, looking down at Stan almost as if to check if he looked presentable. She looked away, because he had already made sure he looked clean. He always did. 

His gaze was thrown onto the front door, now opening to reveal a boy his age, who he assumed was the oldest Denbrough son.

"Oh. H-h-huh-hi..Uhm. You'll puh-puh-probuh-bably want to t-tah-talk..tuh-t-to my m-mom." The other boy's eyes met Stan's for a moment, and it only made Stan want to look away from the brief contact. Yet he didn't. He blinked his eyes until the other boy had been brushed aside by his mother. Soon enough, Mrs. Denbrough appeared in the door way, mainly telling her son to go back to the backyard. Probably to make sure whoever owned that yelling got their shoes back. Sharon and Zach Denbrough were the only people Stan had met from the Denbrough family. Which was understandable, since they were the adults that were taking care of him after all. So she was a familar-ish face. She talked to Cheryl for a moment, before looking over to Stan, smiling at him warmly. "Stanley, welcome! It's very nice to see you again." Stan heard her say, and he said a small 'hi' to her. She knew about his quietness already, from the last time he saw her. So she knew he wasn't being nervously silent now. He wanted to tell her he preferred being called Stan, but he knew he'd have to wait for Cheryl to leave so she wouldn't scold him for 'indecency'.

"You can go out back to meet Bill and George..if you want! " Sharon told him, and as much as he wanted to tell her he'd rather stay by her, Cheryl nudged him forward a little. So he shuffled cautiously into the house, trying to guess where the backyard door was. A tour would've been lovely since he hadn't even asked where the backdoor was. Though he mainly just followed those now a little quieter exclaims. He slid the door to the side, having left his bags carefully by the table before hesitantly stepping out onto the grass. 

He could see 'Bill' and his brother, with two others sitting together over near a trampoline, almost whispering.

"What if he's one of those..like..crazy kids who murder their family?"  
"Richie--Don't say that! You're so freaking rude!"  
"Oh bite me, Eddie Spaghetti. I'm just saying, he could've murdered his parents and the cops were too lazy to send him to juvy!" Stan's shoulders tensed, despite..not..well..needing to go to juvy. The short boy sitting on the trampoline rolled his eyes. "You can't be too lazy to not send someone to juvy." 

Stan's eyes travelled over to Bill. "Huh-He hasn't killed ah-a-ah-anyone, you dolt. But muh-my mom said huh-huh-he's juh-uh-ust really quiet..ah-and stuff."

"And stuff?" George, the smallest and presumably the youngest of the group tilted his head. "What's 'and stuff' supposed to stand for?" Bill shook his head. "Nuh-nuh-nothing, Guh-G-Georgie. Nothing important."  
Stan took another step on the grass, which somehow signalled all four boys to look over at him just as he did so. He noticed how Bill's face pinked, and how he looked away. Probably because he knew Stan had heard what they were saying about him. 

The boy who had gone on about murder, who wore some ridiculously large glasses adjusted those said glasses, pushing them up his nose to the bridge of it, looking over at the trampoline.

"Well." 'Glasses boy' swallowed thickly. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear...".


	2. 2. The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill attempts to get to know Stan. They'll be living together after all.

Bill's room was quiet.  
Stan could pinpoint that for starters. 

 

The eldest Denbrough son's friends had left, since the shorter one had a curfew or something.  
Stanley had a curfew before. Eight thirty pm. He had to go to bed then, but he'd never really fall asleep. And if he did, it wouldn't be for long.  
Stan thought curfews were good. But he didn't need a rule to make sure he'd go to bed at the same time every night. He would do it himself every night. 

 

Bill sat on his bed, while Stan had taken a seat on the chair by Bill's desk, sort of across from him.  
The room was still quiet, causing Bill to furrow his brows and stare at his lap, while Stan dug his nails into his knees.  
Stan was told to 'hang out with Bill upstairs while dinner was being made'. They weren't hanging out too much, that was for sure. Stan's bags were over by Bill's wardrobe, while Stan kept his book by him, on Bill's desk so it wouldn't have to go on the floor. 

 

"Suh-so-o.." Bill tried to drawl out the 'o', but his voice fell choppy before it could come out smoother. Stan noticed that about all his words. Despite Bill not saying that much. "Duh-duh-do you luh-like to reeh-reeh-read?" Bill finally spoke up, bringing his gaze up from his lap and over to Stan, referencing his book. Stan nodded, slowly taking the said item. "It's a bird book." He stated, his eyes meeting Bill's before the other looked back at the bird book. "Yuh-you like buh-b-birds?".

 

"Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't have a book about them." Stan shut his mouth after realising his sarcastic tone. It seemed to make Bill chuckle, forced, but he chuckled. "I-i like tuh-to ruh-ruh-write." Bill said, after another few seconds of silence. "That's..nice." Stan commented, not entirely sure what to say.

 

The two were clearly finding it hard to converse. "I didn't kill my parents by the way." Stan declared quietly, his eyebrows almost knitting together. Bill seemed to understand what he was referencing back to. 

"I knuh-knuh-know that. My friends are juh-ust dumb."  
"Only one of them said it."  
"Wuh-Well, huh-he's dumb then." 

 

Stan ran his fIngers along the cover of the bird book. "They just didn't want me." Bill tilted his head a little. "Who duh-didn't?".  
Stan took a deep breath, inhaling sharply. "Nevermind. What was your friends' names?".

"Well, the wuh-wuh-one that spoh-spoke a lot of was Richie. He's nice, ruh-really, he juh-just doesn't think buh-before he speaks."  
Stan found that funny. He considered himself to be an over-thinker. Over-analyser..possibly. He thought about his worse too much where he didn't need to say them anymore. 

 

"The shuh-shorter.." Bill paused and looked as if he was about to rephrase, before continuing. "The other one..thuh-thah-at's Eddie. He's cool..and, uhm, yuh-yeah. He's sort of like a ball of ruh-ruh-rage somedays..Well, ah-any day wuh-with Richie around. Duh-did you huh-have ah-any friends at..at the..u-uhm.fuh-fuh-fff-foh..."

 

"The foster home?" Bill nodded when Stan said what he meant. Stan shook his head. "Not really. I was lonely, but it was better that way. Everyone was so loud and messy. They were the worst."  
"Oh.." Bill spoke a little, as if proving he was listening. 

The two were silent yet again, both pairs of eyes wandering over to look at Stan's bags. Stan clamped his two hands together, wanting to ask where he'd sleep, but instead he thought he'd be better off asking Sharon. 

Bill sort of seemed nervous when talking to him.  
Not about..but to him.  
Stan noticed he had a stutter too, or something like that. He didn't ask about it or anything though, figuring it'd maybe be best not to do so. 

Their third time falling into silence, Stan decided to look at some of the posters and pictures on the walls of Bill's bedroom. "They're all crooked. The majority of your things are crooked." He found himself blurting. 

Bill looked over, questioning Stan's words silently. "What's cuh-cuh-caruh-ooked?" He asked quietly, and Stan just mumbled that nearly everything on the walls was crooked or that something was dusty."

Bill wanted to ask how, because everything looked okay and straight to him. But when he looked at the narrowed and concentrated eyes of Stan, he noticed Stan was most definitely seeing into it more than he was. "I cuh-can fuh-fix it later, if that's better?"

"Oh..no, I'm sorry, I-I..It's just that it was quiet and I focused toon hard." Stan seemed to break his gaze from one photo of Bill and a girl. "You don't..have to..It's your room. I shouldn't.." Stan tore his eyes from the walls and stared down at his lap. 

Before Bill could say or do anything else or more, His mother had called up to the two boys that dinner was ready, so Bill stood up, still looking at Stan curiously.

"Wuh-We better go duh-down nuh-n-nuh-now..".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if it's not a lot ahhh ^°^


End file.
